Chapter 88: The "Wisdom" and the Wildfire
"The Alchemists' Guildhall?" It would have been better not to ask. The name felt even more out of place than the building itself; Egger couldn't help but wonder if he had transmigrated into a video game world. "What do they do there? Can alchemists use magic?"
"You've surely heard the other two terms: Pyromancers and Wildfire," Tyrion shrugged. Seeing Egger rein in his horse, he gestured for Jakken and Morrec to stop as well. "What's wrong? That's not something you want to play with."
Egger turned back. "If I wanted to visit, could I go inside?"
"Oh, easily enough. The Pyromancers used to be the darlings of the Targaryens, but they've fallen so far now that anyone can give them a kick and a spit," Tyrion remarked with a shrug. "As long as you have a bit of coin, you're in. If it weren't for the fact that there's too much Wildfire stored underground to handle, do you think this building would still be standing? But the people inside are all a bit... touched. Well, and quite pitiable. Talk about falling from heaven straight into hell—that's this lot."
"Let's go take a look."
Tyrion frowned strangely but, having grown accustomed to Egger's sudden whims, didn't press the matter. He struggled down from his custom saddle and stood beside Egger with his two attendants.
...
"How do we get in?"
"Through the front door."
Egger rolled his eyes. "The front door is closed."
Tyrion rolled his back. "Do you know how to knock?"
It was that simple? Morrec stayed behind to guard the four horses while the other three climbed the steps and knocked on the wooden door, which looked like it hadn't been opened in decades.
It was faster than expected... much faster, actually. The door creaked open, and an old man with a face like a thieving rat—several times more wretched-looking than Will—poked his head out.
"What is it? Here to buy the substance?"
"Mhm." Tyrion patted his purse; the gold dragons and silver stags gave a crisp clink.
The door opened wider. "Come in, then. Why are you dressed so lightly?"
What did he mean? Egger was puzzled, but seeing Tyrion's confidence, he kept quiet and followed. Soon, he realized they were headed in the wrong direction; they weren't going up into the building, but down.
"How should I address you?" Tyrion asked the old man.
"Please, call me Wisdom Hallyne," the old man said haughtily. "How much do you require?"
"Ask my friend here. He's curious about Wildfire."
How much what? Egger's mind was a mess. Who am I? Where am I? What am I doing?
Oh, right. He was currently Egger West, Chief Logistics Officer of the Night's Watch, inside the Alchemists' Guildhall, wanting to learn about Wildfire.
But listening to the exchange between Tyrion and Wisdom Hallyne, that mysterious, "neon-green" liquid was being bought and sold as casually as wine?
This was liquid explosive, for gods' sake!
"Eh... dressed in black. Has someone in the family died? Using the substance to cremate a body is a fine idea, indeed."
Egger's face immediately darkened. "I am a man of the Night's Watch. You worry too much about my business. Just introduce me to 'the substance'."
"Fine, fine. You people are like curious little squirrels, asking questions all day long," Hallyne muttered, then looked at Tyrion as if worried. "If I introduce him to the substance, you must buy at least ten silver stags' worth."
"Do you know who I am?" Tyrion asked curiously. "Do you know that my family's gold could buy the entire Alchemists' Guild?"
The old man stared at Tyrion for a long time without speaking. From his suspicious expression, Egger reached a startling conclusion: this fellow truly didn't recognize Tyrion, and likely hadn't even heard of a dwarf named Lannister.
Regardless, Tyrion's "wealthy landlord" dialogue and aura intimidated the old man. He stopped his prattling, grabbed an oil lamp hanging from the wall, and led the three down the descending stairs while beginning his introduction.
"Do you know of dragons?" Hallyne's opening was actually quite engaging. "Terrifying magical dragons. They could blot out the sun with their wings and incinerate all things with a single breath. Where did their ability to breathe fire come from?"
"Magic?"
"No, an organ in their chest," the self-proclaimed Wisdom shook his head. "This organ secretes a miraculous substance at all times. When fire is needed, the organ contracts to squeeze out the liquid, which is accelerated and atomized by an organ in the mouth, then ignited with a touch of magic. Thus, dragonflame is born."
"What does that have to do with Wildfire? Is it the same substance produced inside a dragon's body?" Egger's brow furrowed, and he instantly imagined a dark backstory for the Guild: Every jar of Wildfire produced means a hatchling dragon was slaughtered. When the buying stops, the killing can too. Boycott Wildfire; it starts with me!
Could the extinction of dragons be due to over-harvesting Wildfire?
That was impossible, of course. Setting aside whether a dragon could secrete that much green liquid, humans would surely have found a gentler way to extract it—like harvesting bear bile.
Egger's concern now was: how could such a vital military asset, a weapon of mass destruction, be traded as freely as wine? And seeing Hallyne's subservient attitude, it seemed as if the stock was sitting idle with no buyers.
...
"No, no. The substance is not produced inside a dragon. we merely gained inspiration from that liquid and, with the help of technique and magic, invented the substance."
"Can't you just say 'Wildfire'? Do you have to keep saying 'the substance'?" Egger couldn't take it anymore. Having Jaqen around pretending to be an idiot was enough; now a Pyromancer was doing it too. Enough was enough.
"Wildfire is what laymen call it!" The old man looked offended. "It is not wild; it can be controlled. So long as safety measures are taken and one masters a bit of fire magic..."
"Do you know fire magic?" Tyrion let out a disdainful snort. "If Wildfire could be controlled, a Targaryen would likely still be sitting on the Iron Throne, and your 'substance' wouldn't have fallen to this price. It would be a restricted treasure of the state!"
Hallyne had no answer for that. He muttered a few sheepish words and continued leading the three deeper underground.
Soon, Egger understood why Hallyne had asked, "Why are you dressed so lightly?" After passing through the hall and entering the cellar stairs, the temperature plummeted. The basement effect was particularly pronounced here. If it was thirty degrees outside, it was ten degrees here. Before reaching the bottom, Egger already felt goosebumps on his arms.
Finally, they finished the stairs and entered a corridor. Egger was shivering so hard his teeth chattered. If not for his curiosity and strong sense of purpose, he would have returned to the surface immediately.
It was pitch black with not a hint of light; the damp stone walls were covered in saltpeter. The only light source was the sealed, iron-caged glass oil lamp that Wisdom Hallyne carried with extreme care.
The actual distance was perhaps dozens of meters, but it felt like they had walked for half a century. Hallyne stopped before a heavy-looking door, handed the lamp to Egger, and fished out a key to open it.
"Don't come in!" the old man suddenly cried out. "Stay at the door! Light and heat can make the substance unstable!"
Egger quickly stood still with the lamp, finally understanding why this stuff couldn't be used widely: if Wildfire was so unstable that even an oil lamp encased in glass posed a danger, how could it ever be practical?
By the faint light of the lamp reaching past the door, Egger saw the room was packed with shelves, filled with fiery red round jars like rows of stout, clay pomelos.
"Come and help." Hallyne stood before a shelf and beckoned the three over.
Egger quickly handed the lamp to Jakken behind him and stepped forward to steady the jar in the Pyromancer's hands.
"Gently. The clay is very thin."
Hallyne pulled out a small vial, confirmed with the Night's Watchman that he was buying ten silver stags' worth of Wildfire, and began to tilt the jar.
The "Wildfire" flowed slowly toward the mouth of the vial, appearing a deep dark green under the dim light of the lamp outside. The texture was somewhat like honey.
"Don't let your hands touch it. Body heat can also make the substance unstable."
"Body heat can ignite it?" Egger nearly dropped the jar in fright. This damn stuff would be a nightmare to use in actual combat.
"Not quite that extreme... at least, there is no record of body heat igniting Wildfire so far." Hallyne looked a bit embarrassed and explained with a sheepish grin: "But the older the substance gets, the easier it is to ignite. For the sake of your life, it is better to be cautious."
...
Soon, the container—slightly larger than a 500ml soda bottle—was full. Hallyne insisted that the amount in the bottle exceeded ten silver stags in value, but the extra was a gift. After paying, Egger had obtained a bottle of terrifying liquid fuel with zero effort.
"I am very interested in this, Wisdom Hallyne." Egger carefully tucked the bottle away according to the instructions and pulled out a business card to hand to the old man. "If you are free, please come find me at the Night's Watch office within two days. It's across from the East Barracks of the City Watch. We can discuss a very big business deal."
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